


A Shower, A Meal, A Nap, and A Shag

by chickenlivesinpumpkin



Series: It Started in the Shower [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Language, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickenlivesinpumpkin/pseuds/chickenlivesinpumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's supposed to be alone in Grimmauld Place...so why is there a Malfoy in his shower? And what's Harry going to do about it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shower, A Meal, A Nap, and A Shag

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [［哈德］［授权翻译］A Shower, A Meal, A Nap, and A Shag by chickenlivesinpumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9146839) by [harryhiddleston](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryhiddleston/pseuds/harryhiddleston)



> Unfortunately, I am making no money from this whatsoever.

Harry was alone in the house—well, he should’ve been, anyway.

Ron and Hermione had left less than an hour ago to follow up with Lupin (with Ron kicking Harry’s door and shouting “Oi, we’re going, mate!” and Hermione hissing, “Ron! He’s trying to sleep!”), so Grimmauld Place should’ve been silent when Harry finally dragged himself out of bed to piss and brush his teeth in his private bath before heading downstairs for breakfast.

And yet, the distinct sound of the shower running in the upstairs guest bathroom could be heard.

Harry’s life being as it was, he’d gotten in the habit of taking his wand with him everywhere. He might pad naked to the bathroom for a piss in the middle of the night, but you could be sure that he had a wand in each hand while he did his business. Not that he slept naked (he wore an old pair of Dudley’s pyjama bottoms with—no joke—pirates on them), but the procedure was firmly in place anyway.

He did a quick point-me spell and saw that Ron and Hermione were, indeed, well out of the house. So who was in his bathroom?

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he considered his options. Running was probably the safest in the short term; the way things had been going lately with the search for the horcruxes, he might not want to press his luck when he wasn’t forced to. Still, that meant his friends might well walk into a trap if they returned before Harry could track them down and warn them. More than that, it might mean leaving Grimmauld Place for good if it was compromised, and without all their stuff.

In the stay-here-and-deal-with-it column were two facts: one, Harry wasn’t all that sensible in the face of potential danger, and two, he wasn’t going to run from any potential villain whose idea of laying a trap was to steam up the bathroom.

Carefully he edged up along the wall, noting that the door wasn’t even closed all the way. He listened hard, but couldn’t catch anything beyond the thunder of water striking porcelain. So with a deep breath, he slowly pushed the door open.

The shower was one of those old, majestic manor ones, big enough to fit a stable of horses, with gilt bronze taps, a tiled floor, and thick leaded glass. And beyond that glass, soaking wet in the steam was…

_Malfoy?_

Harry couldn’t quite make sense of it. How the hell had Malfoy gotten in? Why the hell hadn’t he announced his presence? What the hell was he do…oh, bloody hell.

Malfoy was wanking.

And he was fucking beautiful.

He’d propped his left arm up on the wall and was resting his face against it, his right hand moving slowly over a cock that was bigger than it had any right to be on that rather slender, elegant frame. The boy was all lean muscle and long legs, surprisingly strong shoulders and flat belly. That arse…round and firm and pert. His white-blonde hair was darker when it was wet, and his cheeks were flushed a delicate pink beneath tightly-closed eyes.

Harry made a sound like he’d been punched hard in the gut—suitable, because that was what it felt like. Malfoy’s eyes flew open, his head yanked around, and a grey stare met green. Harry couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Malfoy being Malfoy, he didn’t have any problem coming up with a response. He didn’t even cringe or try to hide himself. Instead he turned to face Harry, eyes narrowing, erection bobbing, and threw his hands wide in an exasperated gesture.

“What the fuck, Potter?”

“You’re snapping at me?” Harry said, still trying to remember how to swallow, because the head-on view was just as good as the side view had been.

“You always just barge in on people when they’re showering?”

“Not when they have a right to be in my house,” Harry said, anger bringing his brain back online. It probably helped that he was now looking Malfoy directly in the eyes. Only the eyes. Yup, just the eyes.

Christ, that _cock._

Hard and thick and rosy.

“Eyes up here, dickhead,” Malfoy snapped, pointing at his face.

Harry flushed. “You wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t breaking and entering.”

“I don’t know what that means and I didn’t break a damn thing. Look, could you just not be a prat for once, Potter? I’ve been up all night trying to avoid getting caught and killed, okay? It's not my fault the mud—Granger didn’t figure out that Spinner’s End hadn’t been blocked on your floo. Pretty pathetic, really. Snape could’ve got in at any time.”

The thought made Harry clench his fists, but Malfoy waved a hand casually, as if he could wipe the whole problem away that easily. “You don't have to worry. He fixed it from his end after he sent me through to keep anyone from following me. If it helps, I don’t think he even knew you were here.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well, then we’re both annoyed. Now, unless there’s something else—”

“Malfoy,” Harry said, closing his eyes for just a second in pure frustration. “What are you doing _here_?”

“I couldn’t do it anymore,” he said, quietly enough that Harry almost didn’t hear him over the water. “I couldn't keep living at the Manor, not with...I’m not staying, don’t worry. This is just the first stop in a long life of running. I thought I’d cadge a shower, a meal, and a nap before I took off. I'm not going to break anything or steal anything, okay? I, uh, ate a couple of your bagels, but I’ll be out of your way in a little while. I’m officially unaffiliated, all right? So don’t hex me.”

Harry studied the other boy for a long moment, wondering if he could trust the explanation. What decided him was the memory of what he’d come to think of the waver. The moment when Malfoy’s wand had begun to drop away from Dumbledore.

“You wouldn’t have done it,” Harry said. “In the Astronomy Tower, I mean.”

A muscle worked in Malfoy’s jaw. “No,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t have done it.”

“All right.”

They stood for a long moment, then Malfoy’s eyebrows lifted. “Unless you were planning on climbing in here and making up for the interruption, Potter, get the fuck out now.”

And okay, this was Malfoy, the biggest prat in the universe, a git of the first order, a boy with a tongue so sharp it inevitably took Harry to the edge of violence, but at the same time, this was Malfoy, surprisingly elegant, pale and perfect with a cock that was taking Harry to the edge of violence. So he didn’t leave. He simply let his eyes wander over the other boy.

Malfoy went very still.

Harry stepped forward.

Malfoy stepped back. “Potter, I don’t know what the hell you think you’re about, but that invitation was not actually on the level.”

“Then you shouldn’t have said it,” Harry said. He caught Malfoy’s gaze dropping to study Harry’s bare chest. Interesting. So he put his wand on the sink next to Malfoy’s and took his glasses off.

“I say a lot of things I don’t mean,” Malfoy said, voice getting slightly higher-pitched.

“Why, Malfoy, you seem a bit shaken.” Harry smirked.

“Am not.”

“Very mature.”

“You’re the one in pirate pyjamas.”

“Good point.” Harry shucked his pyjamas and pants down in a smooth motion and stepped out of them.

“You are not coming near me with that,” Malfoy said, now sounding decidedly worried. Harry took a peek down at the other boy’s cock and hid his smile. Still hard. So there was hope.

Harry was hard too. In fact, he had the sneaking suspicion that Malfoy’s reference to _that_ was actually about the rampaging erection Harry was sporting.

“Potter, back off,” Malfoy said. “Don’t make me curse you.”

“You don’t have your wand,” Harry said mildly.

“Potter,” Malfoy said, on the verge of panic.

Harry opened the glass door and was immediately enveloped in a rush of steam. “The way you’re going on, I’m tempted to think you’re a virgin, Malfoy.”

Malfoy said nothing, and Harry’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh, really? I always thought the Slytherins were fucking like rabbits down in that dungeon.”

Malfoy’s face twisted up in scorn. “With Snape as our Head of House? Are you kidding? He was a fervent believer in random bed checks. That man is a walking, talking cockblock.”

Harry laughed and walked forward into the spray. Malfoy all but stumbled out of his way, and Harry dunked his head under the water. “Jesus, that’s wicked hot.”

“Get your own shower and you can freeze your bollocks off for all I care,” Malfoy said sullenly. But Harry wasn’t put off. If Malfoy really didn’t want this, he’d have stormed out of the bathroom already.

“You look cold.”

“I’m not!”

Harry smirked. “Would you just come over here and let me fuck you?”

Malfoy made a noise that sounded eerily like one made by a cat that had just been stepped on. “You’re not getting your hands on me.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, I think I will. What’s more, I think you’re going to like it. I know what I’m doing, Malfoy. I’ll make it good for you.”

Malfoy looked away and swallowed. “Because you’ve been with so many people?”

“Only two, but more than once with each. Gryffindor’s Head of House is far more pragmatic than yours, apparently. And my partners have been generous with their knowledge.”

“Who was it you were with?”

Harry shook his head. Hufflepuff boys were surprisingly open-minded and appreciative (and occasionally downright filthy), but he wasn’t going to take the time to explain that to someone who thought of that house as being filled with morons. “We’re naked in a shower, Malfoy. I’m not talking to you about other boys I’ve fucked. Now, come here.”

“No,” Malfoy said stubbornly.

Harry sighed. “What’s it going to take?”

Malfoy’s face took on that manipulative light it carried so well. “You let me fuck you.”

“No,” Harry said flatly. “I don’t fancy sitting on a sore arse all day because you don’t know what you’re doing. God knows you won’t take directions from me.”

“So I’m just supposed to let you walk around telling everyone you fucked me? I have my pride, you know!”

“And if I promised not to say a word?”

“Like I’m going to trust a promise from you.”

“Who the hell am I going to tell? It’s not like there’s a gossip mill in my house, you dope.”

“The Weasel and the mud—Granger!”

Harry paused. “You’re worried about being the one to take it? Worried about what people will say?”

Malfoy nodded stiffly.

“Then I’ll suck you off first,” Harry said. He picked up the soap, began to scrub it over his chest. “Then, if I talk, you can tell people that you had the great Harry Potter on his knees first. It gives me incentive to keep my mouth shut. Mutually assured destruction.”

Malfoy was looking at him speculatively. Harry wanted to roll his eyes; he didn’t think about sex the way Malfoy did. For him, there was no shame in any part of it—that he wanted to top was a mixture of personal preference and the real concern that Malfoy might hurt him because he didn’t care enough to be careful. But for a Slytherin like Malfoy, everything had to be a fucking power struggle. Literally, in this case.

“You’re going to suck me,” Malfoy repeated, his eyes now lingering on Harry’s lips. And when Harry’s hands drifted lower, spreading soap over his cock and balls, Malfoy’s eyes followed.

“Yup. The fucking will feel better if you don’t come first, but if you want to shoot down my throat, that’s fine too. I’ll even swallow.”

Malfoy let out a shaky breath. “Fine. But if you hurt me, I’ll kick your ass.”

Harry smiled. “Fair enough. Now get over here. You’re shivering, and it’s not that sexy.”

Harry was lying. Malfoy would be sexy if he was coated in mud and standing on his head.

When the slightly smaller boy ducked under the spray beside him, Harry noticed that the shivering didn’t go away. “You’re not cold,” Harry mused. He ran a experimental hand down Malfoy’s arm and watched him jump. “You’re shaking. Are you scared?”

“No,” Malfoy said petulantly.

“Okay,” Harry said, ignoring the obvious falsehood. He didn’t want Malfoy to use an argument as an excuse to run. “We’ll go slow.” _At first, anyway._

Harry continued to stroke Malfoy’s arms, moving up and down, letting his fingers lift to trail across shoulders and then around the nape of his neck. He tugged Malfoy close and kissed him.

Malfoy hesitated before he tentatively kissed back. But then he wriggled away like a cat trying to escape a restrictive hold. “This is weird.”

“That’ll go away in a minute if you would just come _here._ ” Abandoning debate, Harry grabbed the other boy, planted his feet against slipping, and yanked. A second later, his arms were filled with wet Malfoy, and Harry kissed him. It was a fierce kiss, forceful and demanding. He took no prisoners, just slanted his head, drove inside, and possessed.

And Malfoy melted.

Their tongues met and stroked and dueled. Teeth clicked. Breath panted. Malfoy’s mouth was hot and damp and sweet, and it was all Harry could do to keep a leash on himself. His hands stroked over smooth skin: the subtle curve that was the small of the back, the ridges of ribs, the hollow of a collarbone. He bent his head, licking and tasting along that long throat, nibbling an earlobe, sucking at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Then he went lower still, to the pink, responsive nipples, delighting in the surprised gasps and moans Malfoy was giving up.

Harry kept returning to Malfoy’s mouth though. He couldn’t get enough. He’d never known Malfoy like this; pliable, immersed, trembling.

It was strangely intoxicating.

Harry finally dropped to his knees. He avoided Malfoy’s cock initially, although that took more strength than he thought he possessed. Instead he lingered over long thighs and the lovely spot where thigh became groin, even dragging fingers behind Malfoy’s knees. And he took his time about it.

“Potter,” Malfoy said thinly. “Would you just get on with it?”

Harry chuckled and sucked one of Malfoy’s balls into his mouth. Malfoy bucked helplessly under his tongue. Harry switched to the other. Then he nuzzled the base of that beautiful cock, inhaling through wet, pale hair and trailing his lips along the skin.

“For fuck’s sake, Potter!”

Grinning, Harry decided Malfoy’d probably had as much teasing as he could take. He _was_ inexperienced, after all. So Harry licked the tip of Malfoy’s cock, loving the groan that was wrenched out of the other boy’s throat. Then he licked along the vein, playing up the shaft, ducking beneath to stroke with his lips until Malfoy was on the verge of begging. Hands came to rest in Harry’s hair, clenching and fluttering.

By the time Harry took him deep, Malfoy was a quivering mess.

Harry sucked, his cheeks hollowing. He began to bob his head and Malfoy gave a low, soft, desperate groan that probably signaled an impending orgasm. The idea made Harry abruptly clench with need. He pulled off.

“Come on,” Malfoy moaned.

“Do you really want to come like this?” Harry asked. Somehow, his voice had lowered and roughened. He sounded like he’d swallowed rocks.

“I-I don’t know. I can’t—“

“Decide, now. Here, like this, or while I’m inside you?”

A very brief hesitation. “Inside me,” he said faintly.

Harry stood and flipped the water off. “I can’t fuck you in here. The tile will fuck up your knees.”

Malfoy slipped a little when Harry took his wrist and yanked him out of the bathroom. He stopped, the other boy crashing into him, and went back for his wand. In the hallway, on the softer carpet, Harry all but threw a dripping wet Malfoy down on hands and knees near the top of the stairs, his mouth already on the lean line of spine, hands rubbing slim hips before darting around to take Malfoy’s cock in hand. He gave it several pumps, gentle and teasing even though it nearly killed him, and dimly heard the choked sigh his action brought.

All this white skin was driving him mad.

He used his knees to edge Malfoy’s legs apart. The other boy suddenly began fidgeting. When Harry touched a pale buttock, Malfoy jumped. Skittish.

“Easy,” Harry managed, rubbing a circle there. “I won’t be rough.”

He pressed his finger against the pink entrance to Malfoy’s body, teasing the pucker and letting the other boy get used to being touched there. Harry had to fight the urge to lean down and taste. Then he thought, _why the hell not?_ And withdrawing his finger, he put his mouth on Malfoy’s arsehole.

Malfoy nearly leapt out of his skin; Harry had to grab his hips tightly to keep him from falling down the stairs just in front of them.

“Easy,” Harry said again, firmer this time. Then he lowered his lips again, licking and stroking until he was rewarded with a deep groan and Malfoy’s arse pushing back against his face. Harry took this as a good sign and kept going, digging his tongue deep inside. Malfoy tasted clean after the shower and smelled like soap. Harry’s cock _ached_ and he was pushing the limits of his self-control, but he just couldn’t stop. Malfoy’s body was like some magical treasure, full of secrets and unexpected beauties, and if he was only going to get this once, he was going to wring every last bit of pleasure out of it.

When Malfoy’s whole body began to shake, Harry figured he was ready, so he summoned lubricant with his wand and caught the jar as if it were a snitch. He doused a few fingers, surprised to find them unsteady. He eased one inside Malfoy’s hole. It went smoothly and he soon added a second. When he began to stretch and scissor, the other boy let out a grunt.

“Does it hurt?” Harry asked tightly.

“No,” Malfoy said, but he sounded uncertain.

Harry clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a deep breath and slow down. However much he wanted to just drive in deeply, he couldn’t. Malfoy might be a prat, but Harry didn’t want to hurt him. He took more time, added more lube, turned his wrist, and hooked his fingers. Malfoy gasped. Harry adjusted the angle slightly and stroked again, and he couldn’t help a grim smile when Malfoy bucked, letting out a sharp cry.

Harry added a third finger, working the hole loose, rubbing that spot over and over until Malfoy’s hips were nearly dancing in his grip.

“Yes,” Harry bit out. “You want it, don’t you, Malfoy. Beg me.”

Malfoy shook his head, but his arse rocked back on Harry’s hand. Harry stopped moving his fingers, and the other boy moved, searching, finally growling.

“Potter!”

 “Malfoy!” he mocked.

Malfoy rocked back on him again, and when Harry carefully prevented the pleasure, Malfoy finally broke. “Please! Please, do it.”

“Do what? What do you want?” Harry suspected his grin bordered on feral. What was the point of shagging a Malfoy if you couldn’t put him in his place a _little_ at the same time?

“Put…put it in me.”

“Put what in you?” Harry groaned. Hearing Malfoy beg was making him sweat. He was actually shaking with need.

Malfoy’s voice was desperate but shy when he said, “Your cock.” He hesitated. “Put your cock in me, Harry. Please. _Please.”_

Harry broke. He pulled his fingers out, edged Malfoy’s legs wider still, and lined himself up. The head of his cock pushed against Malfoy’s hole, finally popping past the ring of muscle. Malfoy grunted, moving like he might try to get away, and Harry held him tightly. He went deeper in little thrusts, gentle even though he was nearly chewing through his lip. Jesus, Malfoy was so bloody tight. Harry couldn’t breathe, and it was all he could do not to just plunge in and pound.

And then he was balls deep, shuddering from the pressure around his cock. Malfoy was gasping, his whole body vibrating.

Harry gave him as much time as he could, and then he began to pull out. Malfoy’s back arched. Harry advanced again, his fingers locked around Malfoy’s slender hips, wondering how that almost-delicate body was taking all of him, his head thrown back as he gritted his teeth. _Gentle, gentle,_ he reminded himself.

He searched for the right angle on the next few thrusts, and knew he’d found it when Malfoy groaned, “Oh, fuck, _yes_.”

And Harry lost it. He thrust hard and fast and over and over and over, until he thought he might go mad from it. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t think. All he could do was piston into Malfoy’s arse and feel that tight body sucking him into a velvet heat he’d never get enough of. Malfoy was saying something nonsensical, his voice frantic, breath sobbing, the movement of his hips wild as he shoved himself onto Harry, helping Harry impale him.

It was too fast. Harry’s orgasm was coming up on him like a freight train, and there was no stopping it.

Harry reached under, found Malfoy’s cock blindly, and began to pump. It took seconds only before Malfoy was falling apart beneath him, letting out a cry of such savage pleasure that Harry began to come as well. And he came hard, body bucking, eyes clenched shut, his shout impossible to contain.

Malfoy sagged to the carpet; Harry barely managed to pull out and fall to the side to avoid crushing him. They caught their breath without speaking. Harry reached out blindly for his wand and cast a couple cleansing spells. At some point, Harry realized that he was absent-mindedly stroking Malfoy’s back with lazy fingers. Then with an awkward lunge, Malfoy curled up against him, and he automatically wrapped his arms around the other boy.

“Just for a minute,” Malfoy whispered.

“Or two.”

Malfoy buried his face in Harry’s shoulder. Harry continued to stroke and pet him. It was his first time, after all. It had nothing to do with Harry’s hands enjoying the feel of all that soft skin.

“Did I live up to my promise?” Harry asked eventually. “Did I make it good for you?”

Malfoy’s response was muffled by flesh.

“If you don’t say it so I can hear you, I’m going to assume you said that I blew your mind with how miraculous my cock was.”

A snort, then Malfoy surfaced. “I _said_ that you would only need to fish for compliments if you were every bit as pathetic as I always thought you were.”

Harry grinned. “I like my version better.”

“I bet.”

After another minute, Malfoy gently eased away onto his stomach, his eyes closed. Harry managed to sit up, and from his angle, it was relatively easy to slide behind Malfoy again, to tug the other boy up onto his hands and knees.

“Hey!” Malfoy yelped.

“I’m just making sure you aren’t injured. Don’t be a baby,” Harry said mildly, subduing Malfoy’s struggles with a gentle slap on the bum before spreading the pert cheeks to look at the exposed arsehole for blood. He was pleased to see there wasn’t any. He let the cheeks fall closed, rubbing his hand over the place he’d smacked. “Christ, Malfoy. Your arse is a piece of art. If you’re not careful, I’m going to have to fuck you again.”

Malfoy began to grumble something about Gryffindors and their assumptions, but fell abruptly soundless as two figures entered the front hall from the drawing room and froze at the foot of the stairs.

“Again?” came a stunned male voice.

Harry winced slightly before summoning a strained grin. “Hey, guys. Have a good meeting?”

Neither Ron nor Hermione moved, although Malfoy sure did. Fast as a ferret, he shoved Harry back from between his legs and clambered to his feet.

Hermione numbly nodded, and Ron’s face began to turn red.

It was the longest, most awkward silence ever. Harry finally made it to his feet, reached into the bathroom, and collected two towels. He thought about returning Malfoy’s wand, then decided this was a good time for the blond boy to be unarmed. He wrapped one towel around his hips and wordlessly handed the other to Malfoy, who took it with mechanical hand. Ron was almost purple.

“Malfoy stopped by for a shower, a nap and a meal,” Harry explained.

“And a shag, apparently,” Hermione said, sounding amused.

“A pretty bloody good one, too,” Harry said, almost apologetically.

Malfoy closed his eyes. He was turning red now too.

And Ron continued to stare in silence while his face changed colors. Harry was starting to get a little afraid of the inevitable explosion. Hermione apparently was too, because she tried to fill the quiet with polite conversation.

“So, Malfoy, how are you?”

“Enjoying one of the worst moments of my life,” Malfoy muttered. “Thank you for asking.”

“Worst?” Harry asked quietly.

Malfoy’s grey eyes flashed up at him just as Ron burst into hysterical laughter. The peals continued until tears were streaming out of his eyes and Malfoy looked on the verge of a raging meltdown.

“This is priceless, Malfoy,” Ron managed. “I didn’t know you were the type to take it up the—“

Malfoy pointed at Harry. “He got on his knees and sucked me first! In the shower!”

Harry rolled his eyes. Mutually assured destruction indeed. Well, Malfoy had made it longer than Harry had hoped.

Ron fell silent, perhaps unsure as to how to take this news. After a second, he and Hermione exchanged a look. Then Hermione said, “I think we’ll just go…um, in the kitchen.”

Ron said, “Yeah. Make sure you get the wet ferret out of the carpet, Harry.”

“Sure,” Harry said.

After they had gone, Malfoy seemed unable to stand still. He paced, mumbling irate words and running angry hands through his damp hair. He looked rather attractive doing it, Harry mused. He was starting to doubt there was anything Malfoy wouldn’t look good doing. Finally the other boy sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Okay, _that_ moment was one of the worst. But what came before wasn’t. Now which bedroom can I have?”

“Down the hall there’s one or two that been unoccupied a while. Take your pick. Sheets might need some cleaning spells.” Harry paused, reassured by Malfoy’s rushed admission. “Or, if you’re not up for clearing up dust, you can sleep in mine. Just down there on the right.”

Malfoy nodded tightly at him. “I’m tired. I’m going to…yeah.” He jerked a thumb, flicked a quick glance in Harry’s direction. “All right.”

“I’m going to get something to eat,” Harry said casually. “Then maybe I’ll join you.”

“To sleep,” Malfoy said quickly.

“Of course,” Harry said, all innocence.

With a suspicious look, Malfoy turned away, but he walked toward Harry’s bedroom. Harry took a great deal of pleasure in watching the swaying buttocks as he did so.

“And if you think sleeping’s all we’ll be doing,” he murmured in the empty hallway, smiling widely, and feeling as manipulative as a Slytherin. “I’ve got a bridge I’d like to sell you.”

Then he headed downstairs to deal with his friends and eat some breakfast, remarkably cheerful, all things considered. They were on the run, after all. It wasn’t every day he got to take a shower, take a nap, eat a bagel, _and_ shag a Malfoy.

          


End file.
